


A War Won, A Life Lost

by My_Furnace_Has_Wings



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Freeform, M/M, Runaan is struggling to cope, Runaan just wants his husband back, Sad, Some world building for the funeral
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:47:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25763137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Furnace_Has_Wings/pseuds/My_Furnace_Has_Wings
Summary: Runaan is eager to get back to the castle. The war is over. They've won. He can't wait to pick his husband up and spin him around and kiss him senseless. Finally they can return home. No threat of war looming overhead.But when Runaan gets there... things aren't as he expected. And Ethari isn't waiting like he should be.
Relationships: Ethari/Runaan (The Dragon Prince)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 34





	A War Won, A Life Lost

Runaan had finally been reunited with his husband just before he had to so quickly leave again to fight. And seeing Ethari fighting with him so suddenly out of nowhere. Helping people up, it gave Runaan hope. Fueled him on in his fight for victory. To win so he could retire with his husband. To live out there days happily in Silvergrove. Or perhaps they would travel. Something Ethari had expressed his curiosity to do. 

The battle was won. It was truly over now. And his love was waiting for him back inside with the others. Runaan couldn’t wait to see the look on Ethari’s face.

He really needed to talk to the others about reinstating Rayla back into their home. He had every faith that Ethari would back him up. He knew his husband could never stay mad at Rayla or him. Or their home.

Runaan smiled with a deep sigh as he saw the massive castle doors of Katolis’. Feeling the weight lift from his shoulders. He pulled his hand away from the gash on his upper arm. It wasn’t bleeding as bad now. Still he put pressure back on. Nothing serious, but it still hurt. Runaan smiled as he could almost hear his husband’s worried voice. Picking up his pace to get to the heavy doors. 

Pushing them open, he was greeted by an old friend.

“Runaan…” Lain’s voice was shaky, and his eyes were red. Still a little watery as if he hadn’t finished crying.

Oh no.

“Tiadrin-”

“She’s alright but-” A hiccup caught in Lain’s throat as he stepped aside to allow Runaan inside properly now. And now he could see the rows of bodies lining the floor. Small columns of space running between them to allow people to walk past without disturbing the deceased. 

Runaan’s chest felt heavy again. So many had been lost. Human and Elf. As he walked forward, he heard Lain’s strangled cry. 

Glancing back, Lain wasn’t looking at him. His hand covering his mouth as he doubled over. Tears leaking out of his tightly shut eyes. 

“Lain-”

Runaan couldn’t finish that sentence no matter how hard he tried. The look of fear on his friend’s face was absolute. And he felt his own blood run cold. Body tingling unpleasantly. 

“Where’s Ethari?”

Lain’s eyes flittered to somewhere just beyond Runaan and he didn’t dare turn around. He didn’t want to. But he didn’t want to keep staring at his friend’s horrified face. Closing his eyes, Runaan turned slowly. Breathing deeply. 

Please be standing behind me. Please be standing behind me. Please be standing-

Runaan open his eyes and looked upon the room full of bodies. White sheets over as many as they could; never covering the face for those that wanted to locate their friends and family. And now Runaan had a moment to take in the few dotted throughout the room, crouching over their lost loved ones. Some crying. Others whimpering. People’s soft voices floated on the air.

So many people were lying here. Just in front of him. People he’d spoken to before the battle had started. People he’d spoken to during the battle. Excellent fighters that shouldn’t be lying here dead. People he should have protected. 

Runaan’s frown was forced wide, eyes unable to blink as they landed on the one person that shouldn’t be there. Lying on his back. A sheet stained with dark blood and dirt covered up to his chest. A little small for his whole body. Head tilted to the side. Hair falling over his face a little. Eyes closed peacefully like he was sleeping. His chest didn’t rise and fall with the breathing he should be doing. Why wasn’t he breathing? Why was he just lying there?

Runaan managed two steps before he collapsed. Fingers gingerly brushing white hair away from dark skin. Glancing down at the blood stain. The sheet had different marks on it. Which ones were his injuries? Where had the fatal blow been?

There was too much he wanted to say but no words could come out. His throat closing painfully as he felt for the other’s pulse. 

“No… no.”

Runaan carefully lifted Ethari’s head. Gently pulling him up to rest against his own body. Ethari remained limp. 

Tears fell freely and for the first time in a long time, Runaan wailed. He cried out so loud. His chest heaved and he felt like he was being split in two. 

“Come back! Come back, I need you! Ethari! Please! My Heart, come back!”

Runaan pushed the white tassels of hair from around Ethari’s face. Trying to wake him up. Looking desperately to his friend.

But Lain was just lost staring at the dead body clutched in Runaan’s grasp. His own tears falling silently. But his entire body shook with the effort. 

Tiadrin was at his side by now. Hand in his, her other hand turned his face to hers. Her worried eyes looked from her Lain, to Runaan, to Ethari. Realization quickly dawned on her and she clutched her own husband tightly. Closing her eyes and trying to breathe deeply.

Runaan rubbed his hands up and down Ethari’s back soothingly. Something his husband enjoyed. And the motion was somewhat calming if still painful.

“Sshh… Sshh my heart. You’ll be alright.”

He knew Ethari couldn’t hear him. But the little comfort he could give Ethari’s spirit would have to be enough.

“I’ve got you.”

Runaan’s voice wobbled and cut off as he choked. But he swallowed and continued. For his husband’s sake. Leaning his head on Ethari’s shoulder.

“Ethari, my heart. My light.”

What did he say to the corpse of his love? What did anyone say? His thoughts wandering to how it had happened. Had it been quick? Over in a flash? Did Ethari suffer through pain until his last breath? Did he lie here in wait for Runaan who was too slow? Was he alone when it happened?

With a shuddering sigh, Runaan gently lowered Ethari back onto the cold floor. Carefully tracing the painted patterns on his skin. Praying that those eyes would open to reveal golden pools.

“Always so willing to help. I will never forget your bravery.”

Runaan’s dark thoughts of who did this heinous crime were interrupted by a sniffle behind him. Shaking his head, Ethari wouldn’t want Runaan going out for revenge. He tried to cough and clear his throat. He could hardly breathe. 

“I miss him.”

A hand on his shoulder, Runaan turned his head.

“We all will.” Tiadrin didn’t offer a trying smile, knowing full well it wouldn’t work. 

Lain was staring at the body still. Almost in disbelief. 

But Runaan’s eyes landed on the hands clasped together as they walked away. Something he and Ethari could never do again. He hated the mere thought of ever falling asleep again without his husband. Of never being able to-

“There he is! Runaan!”

Oh no. I know that voice.

Runaan stiffened at the sound of his daughter. But he couldn’t look. He didn’t want to see the hurt in her eyes. To look at him as the failure he is for not being able to protect his own husband. 

Wind pushed through the open doors and ruffled everyone’s hair. And Runaan welcomed the fresh breeze. Breathing deeply as he prepared to face his daughter. 

“Ru-”

He knew. He knew the exact moment she understood.

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t save him.”

Runaan nearly jumped at the sudden contact. Rayla dove onto the floor with him. Wrapping her arms around his body as she cried. 

“No! No, it’s not fair!”

Runaan rubbed her back to try and comfort her as she crouched over Ethari. Pushing his hair back. Waiting for a reaction. 

“No, it’s not.”

Pulling her away from Ethari to hold onto her. Kissing the crown of her head. She banged her fists against Runaan’s chest. Her voice wobbled and cracked and squeaked. And Runaan made sure to embrace her. At least one of her dads were still here. He would never forgive himself if they’d both left Rayla.

“Come back! Bring him back! Someone bring my dad back!”

Her voice shattered any small conversations as attention drew to them.

Runaan’s glare dared them to say something. 

No one did.

“No, no, no, no.” Rayla carefully crawled back over to Ethari. Feeling for a pulse just as Runaan had. Brushing his hair back again, just as Runaan had. Laying her head above his heart. Hope fading in her eyes as she heard no heartbeat. Eyes glistening with more tears. Runaan came closer to cup Ethari’s cheek. Cold. Ethari hated the cold. He placed his other hand on Rayla’s shoulder. Seeing her look up at him. They both stared at Ethari. Unmoving. Neither of them ready to walk away and come to terms with the reality of their futures. 

***

Planning the funeral had been… different. Combining two traditions. The Humans wanted to bury their comrades in something called a graveyard, Runaan had frowned deeply at the foreign word. Elves wanted to send the ashes of their kin out on the path of rest. An eternal slumber as they awaited their next path; or Nemoria, as Runaan had tried to explain. But it was half lost on those that had no experience with the Elven culture or words. He supposed the same was lost on him when it came to the Human culture and traditions and their… graveyards.

Still, the Elves honored their fallen allies. Human and Elf. Humans would craft slabs of stones, carving names and dates into them. The writing was tiny, but it was constructed high in the city. Close to its center but secluded for those that wished to mourn in peace and away form prying eyes of mere passersby. The open court of the entrance, veering left and into the memorial. No roof, a few vines and smaller plants leaked through the cracks in the ground and crawled up the walls. Giving just enough privacy to those that didn’t want to be seen. Just simply be there.

They burnt every body. Gathered the ashes and kept them separated by individual. It was a long and arduous process but one that no one would trade or complain. This was their dead they were caring for. Not even the Humans spoke out about it. Instead, opting to help. 

It had been hard for Runaan to walk into the different forges and armories and not see his husband working away. The sound of metal had his heart aching with the need for it to be Ethari when he would round that last corner. 

But other Elves and occasionally a Human or two would be the ones working away. Crafting lilies. Pouches in the center to house the ashes. The petals on these one’s would have to sets. The outer set would fan out completely and act as more of a lily pad when it touched the water while the inner set of petals would remain closed. They were to be set into a river when the sky rained silver and gold. A ceremonial arrow exploding with colours. 

Runaan had been sure to offer Rayla the opportunity to fire one of the arrows. He remembered her clinging to him. Eyes wide as fresh tears began to overflow. Runaan would be firing the first arrow. And Rayla would follow suit. When the waters were glittering with the reflected sparks, the flowers would be sent out on their journey. Many would be making their journey that night. Under the full moon. 

As Runaan passes through the entrance of Katolis, he feels his heart crack at the sound of carriages passing over the cobblestone. Memories of walking beside it, filled high with bodies. Heart heavy one more and Runaan is speeding passed the soldiers casting him a glance. He means to glare at them, but one of them merely gives him a sympathetic look and he wonders if the heartbreak is as clear on his face as he feels it in his heart. 

Coming to stand before the slabs of polished stone. Eyes scanning the names as he looks for his husband. Finding him, the dates of his birth and death engraved after it. 

He traces his fingers over the letters. Feeling the small bumps. His cheeks are damp again. 

Fear gripping him as he hears someone approaching. His immediate response is to turn on them. Prepared to fight. But there is no fight. No need to defend. So, he focuses on his breathing. Noting the tightness in his chest and his throat. Trying to swallow.

He glances to his left as he spots a woman walk to the stone. Further up and away from him. And he notices a small figure almost hidden on the other side of her. 

His chest aches again but for a different reason. Looking away. Gritting his teeth. It was one thing to take away a lover’s partner but to take away a child’s parent was unforgiveable. Runaan wishes he could offer them something. But he’s just as broken. 

A second glance shows that the woman is shaking. And now he does turn to her. Eyes wide as she kneels down. Her words strained as she tries to explain that the kid’s father won’t be coming home. 

The kid starts blubbering and the woman is pulling him in close for a tight hug. Rising to carry her son away. The boy’s head buried in her chest. She spots Runaan and he can’t pretend he wasn’t already looking. 

She smiles at him though. Nodding to the stone. And then she leaves.

Runaan finally lets out a shaky breath. His mind wandering to Ethari. The way he would have comforted the woman. Tried to make the kid smile. Runaan wasn’t able to do the same. Though, he wondered if Ethari would have been strong enough if their roles were reversed. Would Ethari still be able to make others smile despite standing here?

Runaan immediately feels guilty when he recalls Ethari had been in that situation. He’d thought Runaan was dead. So long ago. 

Runaan decides to sit and meditate there. Closing his eyes as he tried to imagine his husband sitting across from him. Eyes closed. Meditating with him. It was the best he could manage. The forges were no solace. And he hadn’t been home much. Back and forth with everyone. Helping where he could. Hoping to distract himself with work. Keeping his mind busy. Keep himself from thinking of the reality. He’d seen one of his kin finally crack. They dropped the wooden poles they’d been carrying and screamed. Clutched their head and bowed in agony. 

Runaan had grit his teeth to stop himself from following suit. From throwing his own load and crying. He wanted to. He wanted to shout and scream and curse. He’d wanted so desperately for Ethari to comfort him. 

When Runaan opened his eyes again, he was met with the cold slab of stone towering above his seated form. Names looking down on him. In pity? In sympathy? In disgrace? 

He couldn’t get the words out. He knelt forward and looked up desperately. He couldn’t even tell the wall of names how sorry he was. How he wasn’t fast enough to protect them all. His hands fist in his robes. Eyes wide as he feels judged. 

A soft breeze passes through and Runaan takes the opportunity to breathe deep. Letting his airways open. His hair brushes against his back as the wind dances through the open area. Closing his eyes if only to try and imagine his husband’s hand caressing his hair. 

He doesn’t know how long he sits there. He doesn’t know when the breeze ceased. But when he gets up, it’s because someone has been looking for him. They need his inspection on the arrows.

Ethari would have a better eye than me.

Still, rises and follows them. Thankful they don’t ask who he was there to visit. In fact, the need to inspect something brings a quickness to his step as he strives for a distraction. 

When they arrive, a Human carefully lifts one of the two arrows up and waits for Runaan to look.

Taking the arrow in his hands, turning it over. He frowns as he notices it doesn’t have any of the markings Ethari would have put. 

“The Elves haven’t been to finish the magic on them yet. We wanted to make sure we got the shape right before making them go through the process of enchanting them.”

The man shifts his weight. 

Runaan wants to tell him all the flaws he sees. But they’re minor. They won’t hinder the ceremony. 

“They’ll do.”

He notices their face droop slightly at the lack of appraisal, but they nod. Taking the arrow back.

With a heavy sigh, Runaan pinches the bridge of his nose. To stop the anger or to stop the tears, he doesn’t know.

“I’m sorry. I just…”

A hand on his shoulder has him almost stepping back. Looking up. The Human is giving him an understanding smile. And it’s painful just how understanding it is. They lost someone too. Runaan bites his tongue to stop from asking. From delving in his sorrow with another. Making them recall the painful memories. 

Runaan simple chooses to nod. Stepping back slowly and turning to leave. He stops and looks back to the Human who is already lifting the arrow to inspect it for faults. 

“They are befitting a ceremony.”

The Human glances over to him before nodding and placing the arrow down. Finally sagging, arms gripping the back of a chair to support his sagging weight.

Runaan decides not to pry. Maybe the other had wanted to get something out. Maybe they had wanted peace by themselves. Either way, Runaan opts for leaving. He’ll probably be called again to inspect the arrows once the Elves have enchanted it. Perhaps because his late husband was a blacksmith. One of the best. The best he knew. And he’d met many. 

The funeral itself was beautiful. Runaan stood by the pond that bled into the flowing river further down. He stood beside Human and Elf alike. It was strange, how easy that felt. He wishes his husband could be here to see it. There were many times he wished his husband were here to witness something. Everyone held onto flowers. Ashes held securely within. Both sets of petals were closed. Runaan clutched Ethari’s close. Throat constricting but he tried to focus his breathing once more. Rayla stood beside him. Holding her bow with both hands. Her grip so tight she was almost shaking. 

Runaan’s own bow rested against his back. Packed away as two separate swords. An invention of Ethari’s. 

He smiled as he reached for Rayla’s bow, and instead, handing her Ethari’s flower. 

Her eyes are wide but she’s snatching the flower close and crying silently. Eyes still wide. 

Runaan looks passed his daughter to Callum approaching. Hand’s waiting to receive the flower. Rayla reels back slightly, unwilling to give up the flower. But she does after a moment. And she takes her bow back from Runaan. Awaiting his first arrow. 

People wait in silence. Each holding one flower, up to five. Some of them belonging to them, other’s offering their help. 

Runaan takes another deep breath as he reaches back with both hands and pulls his swords free. Swinging them easily as he turns them in his hands. Clicking them together. A string releasing from one point to and connecting to the other. He reaches back again to grab the first arrow.

He remembers the speeches from Katolis. He remembers the way the night had come too quick and the way the light from the torches that lined the walls. Shadows flickered and Runaan hadn’t been able to keep looking. The shift in light over the covered bodies gave them the illusion of movement. And he couldn’t bear it. He wanted so desperately for Ethari to rise. Wounds healed. Honey eyes searching out teal.

But it didn’t happen then. And it certainly won’t happen now.

Runaan notches the arrow. Taking a deep breath as he raises it high, aiming up above their heads. Above the water. He tries to swallow the lump in his throat as he pulls just a little tighter on the string. Steadying his breath as he looks beyond the ceremonial arrow and to the full moon. Rising high and watching. Another breath, and he lets go. The arrow flies for a few seconds before it explodes. Silver raining down. Their shinning flakes glistening in the dark water.

And then people are stepping forward to carefully push their flowers into the water. The outer set of petals fan out just as they’re supposed to.

It’s surprising how orderly it is. Callum hands Runaan Ethari’s flower once he’s separated the bow back into dual blades and perched them on his back. Runaan takes the flower. Kisses the cold metal and crouches to send his husband away. 

The flowers are taking up a lot of the water’s surface that they’re already spilling into the gentle flow of the river. Carried off. 

They had gone over this part again and again for Rayla. He watched her notch her arrow. Draw her bow. Breathe deep. And release. Her arrow flew and whistled. Exploding in a shower of gold lights. Glittering down. 

Callum stepped forward. Drawing a symbol in the sky. The first he had learnt. 

“Espero.” Pushing the breeze to gently guide the rest of the flowers out into the river. Following each other. 

Ethari’s own flower seemed to teether on the edge. Runaan worried it would get stuck. But it merely twirled slowly. The metal blinking in the light. Almost like a finally farewell as Ethari too, floated down the river.

Rayla is leaning heavily against him. Hearing her little hiccups. He wraps one arm around her. Pulling her tight and kissing the top of her head. Mindful of her horns. He watches the flowers float away. 

Walking from the path of life, to the path of death. Runaan’s voice is quiet. Only Rayla hears it. But it’s meant for Ethari. One final goodbye.

“My heart will be with you, as yours will be with me.”

It took a long while before Runaan wouldn’t start crying again. He was a retired assassin now. But he couldn’t share it with his husband as he had planned all those years ago. He cleaned the house alone, cooked alone, and slept alone. Missing the sound of Ethari’s humming as they did chores. Or the quiet breathing as they slept.

Hell, he still kept blankets piled on Ethari side of the bed. Part of him was still waiting for Ethari to come home. To crawl under the pile and smile at the mere fact of being warm.

Days spent walking through the market weren’t the same. Ethari wasn’t there to crack a joke or to wave at people with a friendly smile.

People would stop and bow. Ask how he was. Give their condolences. He didn’t want that. None of it. Runaan just wanted his husband back. He wanted that familiar warm presence to fill his life once more.

There were times, when Ethari’s death was still fresh; Runaan would come home and call out. Asking what was for dinner, or how Ethari’s day had been. Tears would well up as realization hit him hard that his husband wasn’t home. And he wouldn’t be coming home. His heart sinking at the thought of how this was what Ethari felt when he thought Runaan had died all those years ago. When his flower had sunk.

The hollow feeling tore at him every waking moment. Sometimes Runaan would dream of Ethari. And he wanted so desperately to stay there with him. To sleep. To talk to him again. 

An idea came to him as he was making a list of things he needed to do one day. The roof needed fixing. He had to grab supplies for dinner. He needed to dust. And he paused as he looked at the space at the end. Eyes watching the blank space. He wrote at the very bottom. Just for Ethari.

How was your day, love?

It wasn’t anything profound. It wasn’t something big. Just something he would ask Ethari if he was still here. And just like that, Runaan started to write notes to Ethari. Leaving them on the bench. He would write down little things. Sometimes they were longer when he was feeling the stress get to him. Scrunching them up and burning them in the fire at the end of the day. Trying to remember what it felt like to have warmth beside him.

He would often tell Ethari about his day. Saying how he couldn’t wait to see him again.

Today the kids wanted me to train them. To fight. We have very little need for assassins nowadays. But they were so eager. I wish you could have seen them. Of course, I drilled them. But their spirits were still high by the end. 

Runaan sighed as he tried to focus his breathing. Putting the pencil back to the paper.

I cleaned your workshop for you. I know how you hate to let dust settle in there. 

With another deep sigh, Runaan felt the first prickle of tears forming.

I can’t wait to see you again. This time, you will return my heart.

A small smile formed as he felt the dampness roll down one of his cheeks. 

I will be with you again soon. I know you’ll wait for me. In this life, and the next.

Runaan pauses as he hears voices outside. People passing. They don’t knock. He decides to sign off this note.

Your devoted husband.  
Runaan.

It took some time before Runaan could ever enter Ethari’s forge again. The place just as it had been left. Waiting for the master to return to work. But no one would be returning. It still felt like he was in there though. The enchanted weapons and ornaments held some part of Ethari with them still. His magic sewn into their very cores had them thrumming with magic.

It was a place that, for a while, Runaan felt out of place in without Ethari tinkering away at something. As though the place was… out of bounds. Sacred. He felt like a child at that point, and that’s what prompted him into entering the forge. But he had frozen after taking those first few steps inside. The place was so still. So quiet. The soft breeze that filtered through was like Ethari’s spirit giving Runaan the ability to breathe again. Sometimes it would riffle his hair and Runaan tried to close his eyes and imagine it was his husband. It wasn’t the same. He couldn’t feel the pressure of fingers, or the way Ethari’s hand would have normally ghosted over his horns; but somehow it felt almost close being the heart of Ethari’s work.

And it was like that now, when he entered again. Eyes lazily scanning the room in lost hope of spotting a familiar figure.

“Rayla and Callum are happily married.” 

Runaan looks around as he starts to circle the room idly. Sweeping his hand along the flat of a blade, checking for dust despite having cleaned the place over the day prior.

“They seem happy. They had a beautiful ceremony. It was a mixture of Human and Elven tradition. I think you would have liked it. You always did shirk tradition for the sake of right and wrong. Combining both was… a little tricky. But it worked.”

He tried to clear his throat and laugh.

“I’ll have to tell you about it sometime. When we catch up.”

He made his way to the desk that Ethari would so often be working over. Tinkering away. He picks up the horn ornaments that he cleaned over like everything else in the room. Two pairs. He had wondered about them before.

“Were these for us?”

He gently feels the designs pressed into the metal. One set slightly smaller, and a little shorter. He picks up the bigger pair and puts them on his horns. 

“They fit perfectly.”

He pauses as he eyes the second, smaller pair before picking them up and placing them on his horns as well. They don’t go all the way to where the other’s rest. But they will do. In fact, Runaan finds that he rather likes the extra set as he catches his reflection in one of the fat blades on the wall nearby. A part of Ethari he can carry with him. 

“I’ve been thinking, maybe…”

Runaan looks away from his reflection and wonders if he could anger Ethari’s spirit by saying this but…

“I think we should let people come in here. There are people who were learning the skill of a craftsman and enchanter. Your line of work could be continued.”

He wrinkled his nose at a previous conversation.

“Someone suggested… some people think we should… let Humans into here and that we could learn from them. No one was a better blacksmith than you. No one could charm or curse a blade like you could.”

He sighed as he stepped away from the table. Letting his arms drop to his sides. 

“Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. We are moving towards a new era of peace. I wish you were here to see it, Ethari.”

Wind pushed through the open spaces once again and Runaan sighed. He would continue to believe that it was Ethari’s spirit pushing the air around to let him know he was here with him. Helping him breathe just a little easier. The wind’s gentle caress left Runaan’s eyes damp with the wish that it was his late husband. He breathed out slowly. Closing his eyes. Tilting his head back. 

“I wish you were here.”

**Author's Note:**

> So… I was aiming for sad again. This is longer than most others I write. But I really liked this one. I much prefer happier endings, but I like to branch out and test my skills too.


End file.
